My son was ruined by his grandmother. By sixteen, he refused to study and spent every waking moment hooked on League of Legends. I finally forced the issue with my husband and asked my son who he’d live with if we divorced. “Dad, obviously,” he sneered, without looking up from his screen. “Why would I live with you? You nag me 24/7 about nothing. You’re exhausting.” He actually smiled, then added, “As soon as you’re gone, Auntie Melissa can move in. She’s a thousand times better than you, a million times better. Just divorce already, don’t chicken out!” I nodded, feeling the last bit of attachment break. “Fine. I hope you don’t regret it.” 1 Back when Leo was just starting elementary school, I was swamped starting my own consulting firm. My mother-in-law, Martha, took him back to her quiet town to help us out. It wasn't until a few years ago that I decided to step back, become a full-time stay-at-home mom, and bring Martha and Leo to live with us. I never imagined those few years would completely warp Leo's character. His grandma spoiled him rotten, and now, at sixteen, he had zero self-discipline and felt entitled to everything. This wasn't the first time my son had compared me to this “Auntie Melissa.” The first time I heard him say that, it felt like my heart was being twisted in my chest. I thought all those years of sacrifice, of stepping back from my career, were wasted. The woman he loved so much was Melissa Jenkins. She was my husband Mark’s college sweetheart. Mark had been hopelessly in love with her back in the day, but she had used him as a backup plan. She was obsessed with a “golden boy” from their class and actually moved to London just to chase him. Years later, she returned, penniless, with her looks fading, and suddenly realized my husband was the perfect "safety net." She’d been working her way into our lives ever since. For the past few months, she’d been at our house every single day, rain or shine. She bought Leo a new smartphone, an iPad, a gaming console. She knew I limited Leo's sweets, so she always had chocolate and premium candy bar stuffed in her purse for him. The day we finalized the divorce, Mark and I walked out of the courthouse with the papers. He’s usually pretty spineless, but he looked at me and asked, "We can still be friends, right? Want to come back to the house for a drink?" I gave him a long, hard look. "Sure. Why not?" I wanted to see the reality he had created. As soon as I opened the door, I heard laughter. My son was sitting close to Melissa on the couch, two massive KFC buckets between them. A sixteen-year-old in a growth spurt, and he’s eating this for lunch? I felt my temple throb. But I forced a casual smile, walked over, grabbed a handful of fries from their bucket, and ate them deliberately. Leo looked at me, a confused glint in his eye, which he quickly replaced with defiance. "Aren't you going to yell at me? I'm eating 'junk food,' remember?" He emphasized the words, smugly taking a massive bite of his burger while watching for my reaction. I didn't even bother to roll my eyes. "Nope. When you were my son, I cared about your health. I limited the junk because I know you’re self-conscious about your height and you have no self-control. But now you’re her problem." I smiled sweetly. "Not my circus, not my monkey." He was stunned. He hadn't expected that. For a second, a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but he quickly covered it with a cold smirk and turned back to Melissa, laughing loudly at something she said, pretending I was a stranger. I didn't care. From the moment he said, “Auntie Melissa is a million times better than you, why haven’t you divorced yet?” to the moment he stood there while Mark screamed at me, “Your low-class family raised a useless daughter, you don't deserve this house!” I was done. As of today, he wasn't my son. When he saw I wasn't engaging, his booming laughter gradually faded to a whisper. Melissa shot me a cool glance, then addressed me directly. "Since you’re here... I also have a son, Tyler. He’s fifteen. I’m bringing him over tomorrow to live here and go to school with Leo. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?" She would never have dared to speak to me like that before. I deliberately took my time wiping the grease off my fingers, smiling. "Are you asking me? You’re the lady of the house now. You make the rules." Her eyes widened in surprise, and then her face immediately filled with the smug satisfaction of a woman who had won. "Then it's settled. Leo, you’re the older brother, you have to take good care of Tyler, okay?" My son cheered. "Awesome! Finally, someone to play CoD with!" I sneered internally. You idiot. Once her biological son arrives, your easy life is over. How did I raise such a fool? I must not have taken enough prenatal vitamins. 2 When our family’s finances first turned around years ago, I had bought the adjacent apartment. The plan was to bring my parents over when they got older, so they could live right next door and I could take care of them. That wasn't happening now. During the divorce settlement, I hadn't pushed for much, but I fought for that adjacent unit. It was mine. After the courthouse and the KFC "lunch," I went back to my new apartment. As I was about to close the door, Mark caught it, looking hesitant. "Melissa and I... we haven't actually, you know, 'done it' yet. I didn't cheat on you during the marriage. If you hadn't been so stubborn about the divorce—" "You didn't cheat? I saw you kissing her in your office, and she looked like she was trying to suck the soul out of your body. What was that? A commercial shoot?" I sneered, slamming the door in his face. If he truly respected me, or this marriage, he would have rejected her the moment she started trying to worm her way in. But Mark enjoyed it. He loved having his college "goddess" worshiping him. He let her humiliate me and turned our home into a war zone. So I gave him the divorce. Now he could enjoy her without the guilt. What was the problem? I didn't see a problem. I locked the door, shutting out those toxic people. The world was finally quiet. I pulled out my phone and listed the apartment on Zillow. My parents had only stayed here a few times, so it was basically new. Those few times were enough. My son was constantly screaming at my parents, actually calling them “old geezers” to their faces. My parents, bless them, didn't have the heart to get angry at a child, but I refused to let them be treated that way. I was the one who stopped them from moving in. I had actually slapped the little brat for it back then, but Melissa had held me back, saying he was just a child, and I shouldn't take it seriously. I should have slapped her too. The memory made my blood boil. I suddenly remembered that my son’s debit card was still linked to my bank account. I was transferring $500 a month to him... Not anymore. My thumb swiped across the screen. Unlinked. Cancelled. Instant relief. When I woke up the next morning, I saw an offer on Zillow. Some investor wanted to buy the place, cash, and close fast. I got dressed up before leaving. In the past, I was so busy serving my husband and son that I didn't even have time to look in the mirror. Now, I had nothing but time. I sat at my vanity, did a full skincare routine, applied light makeup, and spent time on my hair and picking a dress. I stared at myself for a long time. My features were good. With some concealer and foundation, the exhaustion was gone, and I looked elegant, nothing like the tired, disheveled housewife I had become. My figure still needed work, though. I picked up my phone and booked a $1,000 personal training package. Now that I wasn't spending money on that little brat, I had plenty of disposable income for myself. I hummed as I walked downstairs, and bumped into Melissa and her biological son, Tyler, on the sidewalk. One look and you knew they were related. Melissa raised him exactly the same way Martha raised Leo—one glance and you wanted to slap him. Tyler was kicking and screaming on the pavement, refusing to let go of a bike rack. Melissa was trying to cajole him. "Forget that bike! Martha and I have money now, I’ll buy you a brand new, custom-ordered mountain bike, the latest model!" She finally convinced him. I watched from the shadows as Tyler went back a minute later and used a key to scratch the bike that had caused the tantrum. He absolutely ruined the paint job. By the way, that bike belonged to my little brat. He had worked odd jobs for me for six months just to save up for it, and he loved it. No matter. Melissa has money now. She’ll buy him a new one. It was her son who broke it, after all. I went to meet the buyer and handle the closing. When I got back, the investor had already sent a crew to change the locks, but they called me to the adjacent unit. My new front door had been hacked and keyed. I assumed it was Tyler, but when the building manager pulled the surveillance footage, I saw my son’s face, filled with rage, gouging my door with a metal tool. My numb, distant heart felt another sharp twist. 3 I didn't need to ask to know what happened. My son discovered his bike was ruined. Melissa probably mentioned, casually, that she had seen me downstairs early that morning... This wasn't her first time using that tactic. I didn't go confront them. I called the cops and gave them the video footage. When the police arrived to take my son in for vandalism, Martha and Melissa both rushed over to shield him. Martha glared at me, screaming, "Is this what a mother does? You're sending your own son to the police station?" I crossed my arms. "Why not? What, should I wait until he moves from vandalism to assault? Or arson?" My son was staring at me coldly. "You're a real piece of work. Just ruthless. I hope you don't regret it." Then he turned to the cop, shouting furiously, "I want to file a counter-complaint! She’s mad my dad dumped her for a younger model, so she ruined my bike this morning!" My jaw almost dropped. Melissa’s eyes were darting around, looking nervous. I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity. I calmly addressed the cop. "Here’s the deal. If I’m the one who ruined his bike, I’ll pay him ten times what it’s worth. But if I didn't, he has to pay me ten times what it costs to replace my door." The little brat froze. He instinctively looked at Melissa. I smiled sweetly at her, waiting. Melissa panicked. "Let's not do that. We're all family here. Don't say things you don't mean. Mark will just pay for the door." I smirked coldly. Before I could speak, the little brat snapped, "Melissa, stop! If you give an inch, she takes a mile! Don't protect her!" He actually called her Melissa. I wasn't surprised. He’d already accepted the enemy. Melissa, however, looked annoyed when he used her name, not happy. Her expression went dark. The fool didn't notice; he was too busy glaring at me. Martha was starting to get suspicious, looking back and forth between me and Melissa. Melissa bit her lip, then adopted a meek tone. "Since there aren't any other cameras down there, it's just your word against ours. There’s no way to prove anything." I smiled sweetly. "All you need to do is agree to the ten times compensation. If I can't prove it, I lose." Melissa’s pupils constricted. She glanced at me, and I deliberately shifted my gaze away as if I were nervous. She took the bait. A smug smile touched her lips. "Fine. But Leo is furious, and as his mother figure, I don't want him to feel cheated." I smiled internally, ignoring her pathetic attempt to hurt me by calling herself his "mother figure." "So, it's a deal?" I casually pulled out my phone and tapped on the video I had already prepared. You should have seen Melissa’s face. It was priceless. The video on my phone clearly showed Tyler, Melissa’s biological son, smirking as he scratched Leo's bike, and then using a key on my door while muttering, "This is all going to be mine eventually anyway, loser." My son watched the video, stunned, his mouth hanging open. Then he furiously slammed his bag onto the ground and screamed a profanity at Tyler. The cop had to interject. "Hey! Cut that out! What’s with the language? You parents need to be watching what your kids are doing." Martha was about to open her mouth to blame me—I could see it. I wasn't letting her get away with it again. She wasn't my family anymore. I addressed the cop directly. "I apologize, officer. The boy is raised without any discipline. I’ve tried to correct him, but my mother-in-law here fought me every step of the way, insisted on raising him herself, and brought him back a complete brat. When I finally brought him back to try and fix him, you can see the result. My home was turned into a battlefield and I was forced into a divorce." I affected a weary, sad sigh. "I'm sorry you have to see this family drama." The cop gave me a sympathetic look. Martha looked like a fish on land, her eyes wide, but she couldn't say a single word. "The compensation goes to my account. You know the number. Don't make me call your father." I smiled coldly at my son, whose face was purple with rage. I ignored the rest of them and casually walked away. I didn't care what the neighbors watching the drama were thinking. 4 My week was fantastic. I received the ten-times compensation, paid out of the brat's savings and allowance, and the apartment closing went smoothly. When I told my parents I was selling, they hesitated. "What about Leo? If you aren't there to watch him, won't his stepmother treat him badly?" I smiled. "What happens to him isn't my concern anymore." I wasn't being dramatic. The hurt ran too deep. I had dedicated my life to him, and for what? To be abused? Melissa only spent a year grooming him, and she had already eclipsed the decade of devotion I’d given him. It was time to move on. As I was happily packing up, Martha suddenly showed up with the little brat in tow. "I heard you sold the other apartment. You must have over a million dollars in cash now. Leo needs to get married one day. I found a great house in a gated community, I think you should buy it for him as a wedding gift." My eyes widened in genuine disbelief. "Are you serious? Are you telling me that a mother is legally obligated to buy a house for a useless, ungrateful son who doesn't even want to study? I don't have that obligation. Do you want to see the court’s decision? The judge ruled I only have to pay $500 a month in child support until he’s eighteen." My son looked at me in disbelief, which immediately turned to disgust. "I am not your son from this day on. If you won't buy me a house, don't ever expect me to support you when you're old!" I chuckled. "I haven't considered you my son for a while now, you call Melissa 'Mom' anyway, don't you? Ask Melissa to buy you a house. And I never expected you to support me. You treat your grandparents like dirt, and they adore you. I can already see what my old age would look like with you in charge. Buy you a house? I’d rather buy a dog and buy it a golden doghouse." My son was left speechless, his face bright red. He turned to his grandmother and screamed, "Why did you bring me here to talk to this bitch? She isn't my mom, I don't have a mom like her!" He actually called me that. The vein in my temple throbbed. Melissa appeared from around the corner, a smile on her face. "Leo is still a child, don't take it personally." Martha screamed at me, "You're the mother! You're actually holding a grudge against your own child? How can you show your face?" I smiled sweetly. "He’s calling me a bitch now. Eventually, he’ll start calling you one too. When that happens, remember, don't take it personally." I slammed the door. I put my hands over my eyes, taking a deep breath. It still hurt. It’s impossible to remain indifferent when someone you once loved more than life itself abuses you like that. But I wasn't going to take it anymore. I knew Melissa was the one filling his head with this nonsense. Martha wasn't smart enough to come up with the "wedding gift" plan on her own. They wanted a wedding gift? Fine. I’ll give them what they want. I called Mark. "Your mom just came by, demanding I buy Leo a wedding gift in a gated community. What’s your take?" Mark was confused. "Leo is sixteen. Isn't that a little early?" I smirked. "Mark, you know Melissa brought her own son, Tyler. Tyler is also going to grow up and need a house. When the time comes, who gets your money? Tyler isn't your son. Leo is your only heir." I knew Mark well. He was obsessed with his legacy. He hesitated, then said, "Maybe I should buy something in Leo’s name, just in case?" "That's your decision. Oh, and Mark, I’d suggest you keep this from Melissa. You know how she gets." ... I finished packing and moved into a new apartment across town, then immediately started looking for a job. I didn't have much experience, but I was motivated. I eventually landed an executive assistant position. I hadn't worked in years, and I was determined to succeed. I put in the hours, got along with my colleagues, and my boss, the CEO, seemed to like me. The following weekend, I was working overtime. My boss, Mr. Harris, a senior executive in his fifties, felt bad, and invited me to his house for lunch. When I arrived at his upscale community, I ran into Melissa and my son walking out of Mr. Harris's neighbor's house. "Melissa, you're the best! You convinced Dad to buy me such an amazing place." The little brat was hugging Melissa, beaming, and actually kissed her cheek. It was a scene of perfect mother-son affection. I was stunned. Mark had bought Leo the house, but Melissa had managed to take all the credit? I couldn't tell if she was genuinely happy or just acting. Then my son saw me. His face immediately darkened. He smirked smugly. "Didn't you say you wouldn't give me money for a house? My mom bought me one." I smiled sweetly. "That's wonderful. You should make sure you're extra good to her." He sneered. "Obviously. But what about you? You have no kids, nobody is going to care about you when you're old. You're going to die alone in your house." I shrugged. "I'm okay with that. I was actually thinking of getting a dog. I’ll let the dog take care of me." My son’s face shifted. He probably felt I was implying something, but he couldn't think of a comeback. He just glared at me darkly. I ignored him and walked into Mr. Harris's house. As I walked in the door, I glanced back and saw Melissa and my son staring at me with a strange, ominous look. The lunch with Mr. Harris and his wife was lovely. Mrs. Harris actually said, "You haven't worked in years? You have fantastic business acumen. What a waste to have been a stay-at-home mom." I smiled sweetly. "Well, isn't that why they say behind every successful man is a supportive woman? But I’m glad to have a chance to succeed on my own." They both laughed. I was thinking about the house Melissa and my son were in. I was curious. It looked like Melissa was genuinely excited, not just pretending. If it were an act, she was a world-class actress. Was there something else going on I didn't know about? 5 I remembered they were coming from the house next to Harris’s, so I casually asked Mrs. Harris, "I noticed the adjacent house seems to be occupied. Do you know the neighbors?" Mrs. Harris said, "The investors who owned it sold it just a few days ago. We haven't met them yet." What a coincidence. My heart skipped a beat. I showed her a picture of Melissa. "Was it this woman who bought it?" "Yes, that’s her." "Did she buy it alone?" "No, she had a boy with her." I showed her a picture of my son. "This boy?" Mrs. Harris shook her head. "No, the boy was younger and... not as well-behaved. The boy down there was actually quite handsome." I showed her Tyler's photo. Mrs. Harris’s face immediately darkened. "Yes, that’s him. So rude. He came over here asking for snacks and just made a mess, didn't even say thank you." He left a memorable impression. I was confused. Was the house in Melissa’s name? Mark bought it for Leo, but Melissa had gone with Tyler to finalize everything? My son was being played, and he was thanking her for it. Just then, my phone rang. It was Martha, my ex-mother-in-law. Melissa and Mark were hosting an engagement party, and they wanted me to come. She probably expected me to refuse, so I immediately agreed. "Sure. I’ll be there. Can I sit at the family table? I am family, after all." Martha was speechless. "If you have the balls to show up, I’ll find a seat for you." Oh, I had the balls. I had a wonderful gift for them. ... The day of the engagement party, I woke up early and spent time on myself. I looked great. When I arrived, many guests didn't even recognize me. I realized how much I had changed. housewife, housewife... when you're dedicated to serving your husband and son and you're not taking care of yourself, what else are you going to be? Now that I wasn't serving anyone, I was an elegant, successful woman. I felt pretty good about myself. Melissa and Mark began their rounds, greeting guests. Mark looked revitalized, and my son was right beside them, looking closer to Melissa than to his own grandmother. Someone commented, "Melissa is a fantastic stepmother. I used to think the 'evil stepmother' cliché was true, but she proves it wrong." The person realized I was sitting right there and blushed. I smiled. "It's fine. If she’s treating my son well, I’m thrilled." They continued chatting with me. Then Martha walked over, a fake smile on her face. "Thrilled? You are the mother. How can you have the audacity to be so detached from your own child?" The happy family scene Martha was trying to project immediately shattered. Martha was looking for a fight; she’d probably spent all night coming up with insults. "Hmph, you actually have the nerve to show your face here. You refused to buy your own son a wedding gift, claiming you didn't have to. But Melissa? The moment she heard, she bought him one immediately." I looked shocked. "She bought it with her own money? Mark, I didn't think you’d do that. You make so much money, and you let your new wife buy a house for your son?" Martha was immediately speechless. Melissa looked panicked, not smug. She waved her hand. "Let's not talk about that on such a happy day. Elena, let me buy you a drink." I took the glass from her hand, smiling sweetly. "Oh, no need to be polite. It was so generous of you to buy my son a house. How much did it cost? I can reimburse you for some of it." Melissa was stunned. Before she could speak, Tyler, her biological son, was screaming from across the room. "What? Mom, you didn't buy me a house, you bought one for him? I'm your son!" I was enjoying this. Go on, Tyler. Melissa’s face was turning purple. Mark was annoyed. "She didn't buy it. I did. It came from my account. Right, Melissa?" Melissa blushed. "Yes, Mark bought it. I just went with him to help with the paperwork." But Tyler wasn't backing down. "Why did you buy him a house? You promised you’d make Mark buy me one, and I’d call him 'Dad'!" The room went silent. Melissa froze. She furiously slapped Tyler. "What are you talking about? I never said that!" Mark looked awkward. I knew his finances; he was successful, but a gated community house in this city was a massive expense. He wouldn't have much left, and even if he did, he wouldn't be thrilled about buying a house for Melissa's son. Melissa tried to recover with a tight smile. "It's fine. I can buy my own son a house one day. Let's not bring this up again. Engagement toast, everyone!" Everyone was ready to move past it, but I wasn't letting them. I chuckled softly, comforting Tyler. "Tyler, don't be mad. Leo doesn't actually have a house. They're both just sixteen, they can’t own property." My son exploded. He screamed at me, "You're full of shit! Dad and Mom bought it, and it's mine! I won't let you lie about them!" I deliberately rolled my eyes to provoke him. "I don't believe you. If you can show me the deed, I’ll apologize. What do you say?" Hearing that I would apologize, my son’s eyes flashed with triumph. He snarled, "Wait right here," and ran back toward the master bedroom to grab the deed. Melissa panicked. She grabbed my son, screaming, "Don't go! This is so embarrassing! She’s your mother, give her some respect!" I sneered. "No need. He doesn't have it." My son was furious. He broke free from Melissa’s grasp, ran back, and slammed the folder onto the table. "Look at this! The deed!" I looked down, smiled, and then it confirmed my suspicions. I sighed. "You poor child. Have you ever seen a deed that doesn't have the official seal from the recording office?" Everyone froze. Mark was the first to react. He snatched the deed and examined it closely. Then, his face twisted in rage, and he glared at Melissa. Melissa desperately grabbed Mark's arm. "We’ll talk later, I can explain!" Mark hesitated, looking at me. I sneered. "Your family genes are pathetic. How could you possibly win against someone like her? It’s not my fault. Your whole family is just too stupid." I ran before they could redirect their rage at me. Martha was screaming behind me, "The deed... the deed needs an official seal?" And my son’s voice, broken and confused: "Mom... Melissa, what's going on? Is there a mistake?" I didn't have the patience to listen. I needed to get a DNA test for my son. I didn't believe he was mine.
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